Bow Wow, 2018

I wrote a profile of Bow Wow in 2018 for Complex, but it never ran. Here it is, an untouched 2nd edit from seven years ago. Shad is a legend.

~~~~

Bow Wow, by Rembert Browne

May 2018

“Hey, sorry man, I thought this was one of those -- wait, what’s that movie called, when the writer just follows the band around?”

“Almost Famous,” I said, standing over the apologizing Bow Wow.

“Yeah, I thought this was like that, you just seeing how I live.”

“I’ll come find you tomorrow,” I said, leaving the studio.

To be honest, I walked out of his studio because I was hungry and I had plans. And after three hours of sitting, watching Bow Wow and his producer make music from his soon-to-be released project Greenlight 6, smoke weed, drink Ciroc and put in a dinner order for everyone except me, all while being repeatedly filmed by a videographer, I’d seen all I needed to see.

It was an interesting feeling, as an interviewer. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a single nervous feeling in preparation. Maybe it was because we both similarly thought (delusionally and accurately) that this city, Atlanta, was our city. Maybe it was because we both thought we were slightly doing the other a favor. Or maybe it was because we were 20 days apart in age.

Either way, walking out of Southside Studios -- the House that Jermaine Dupri Built on the Northside of Atlanta -- I did hope to talk to Bow Wow soon. But, you know, if I didn’t -- well, that’s cool too.

The next morning, I showed up to the class I was teaching, a writing class at the high school I attended. I began the class with a reveal.

“Guess who I finally saw yesterday?”

“BOW WOW,” one of them yelled. “Yes,” I answered, follow by class-wide giggles. We weren’t laughing at Bow Wow, but we’d spent the better part of January talking about Bow Wow, as I prepared them for interviews they were set to do for an assignment. I made each student do research on Bow Wow, while reminding them to consider two questions: “Why was Bow Wow ever important?” and “Why does Bow Wow matter in 2018.”

One student responded to the latter question with, “what do you mean by ‘matter?’”

Standing in front of my class weeks later, they were extremely curious with how the interview went. And upon learning that I sat on a stool for three hours, did not speak, and then left to get a burrito, they were shocked, a few even upset.

“It’s fine -- I’m getting another shot, today”

Six hours later, I was back at Southside. On the side of the building, there’s the studio’s name in graffiti, under the message “Rest In Peace Chris Kelly.” It’d been almost four years since his untimely death, but it was still crazy that one-half of Kriss Kross died -- we used to go trick-or-treating in his neighborhood, always hoping to get a peek of the icon. Upon entering the studio, the walk down memory lane of Atlanta rap and r&b history continued. You’re greeted by plaques for Usher and Xscape and as you weave around the maze of a compound, you’re reminded of the complete legend that is Jermaine Dupri and sheer amount of music that he has helped produce -- from Monica to TLC to Mariah Carey to Total to Jagged Edge to Jay-Z -- the list honestly goes on forever.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, however, his truest protege, Bow Wow.

But the grown man I was here to see could really use a break on being thought of, always, in the same breath as Dupri. It makes sense -- you grow up and want to make it on your own -- but this is something even more nuanced. Between his banter and bravado while making music and listening to him as we spoke the following day, I realized I was here to see how he living. Or, better yet, why he’s living the way he is. But less in the flashy, stuntastic way and more using that why to gain some clues as to who he’s desperately trying to become.

--

Bow Wow, born Shad Moss, has been working, consistently, since 2000. I won’t pretend to lie, I did not believe this to be true, but as they say -- numbers don’t lie. And every year, for the past 17 years, Bow Wow has had some project released on in progress, in the form of an album, film, or television show.

You probably still don’t believe me. So here it is:

2000: Beware of Dog (Album)

2001: Doggy Bag (Album)

2002: Like Mike (film) and All About The Benjamins (Film)

2003: Unleashed (Film)

2004: Johnson Family Vacation (Film)

2005: Roll Bounce (Film) and Wanted (Album)

2006: Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift (Film) and Price of Fame (Album)

2007: Face Off (Album)

2008: Entourage (Television)

2009: New Jack City II (Album)

2010: Lottery Ticket (Film)

2011: Madea’s Big Happy Family (Film)

2012 - 2014: 106 and Park (Television Host)

2015 - 2016: CSI Cyber (Television)

2017: Growing Up Hip Hop Atlanta (Television)

“All I knew I could do was rap,” Bow Wow said. “But with success, it opens up so many other doors. So when I went triple platinum, I started getting movie roles. And when I got Like Mike I was like, ‘hell yeah, I love ball.’ But I didn’t really understand it until my mom was like ‘this is 20th Century Fox, this might be big, we got to move to LA.”

When Bow Wow referred to going triple-platinum, that seemed high -- even for the era of people selling records. Also, it’s Bow Wow and part of his new-found allure has been his tendency to say wild, off-color things, as well as existing in this plane between stretch the truth and outright lying. So I looked up the numbers for Beware of Dog, his first album. He wasn’t lying. It’s a reminder, young Bow Wow was a child star of massive proportions. And when you talk to Bow Wow he reminds you of what he’s done. And it makes sense, because he assumes you have forgotten, because you have.

“Do I have a chip on my shoulder, of course,” Bow Wow said. “Because every year I’ve had to prove myself. They were like, ‘there’s no way a 14 year old black kid can do arenas.’ But we knew what it was and, to this day, I think maybe Jay-Z and me are the only rappers that have sold out Madison Square Garden the most.”

Again, a Bow Wow fact check. The list of rappers who have headlined a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden is small. Jay has done it, as have Run-DMC, Eminem and most recently, J-Cole. Also, Bow Wow. But then there’s what he said about he and Jay: “the only ones who have done it the most” -- what does that even mean? Just like that, I was confronted my first encounter of Bow Wow, the Confusing.

The past year of Bow Wow’s life has been his profile re-rising, on the premise of essentially being a liar. An entire meme, titled the #BowWowChallenge, stemmed from him seemingly lying about taking a private jet. Because of this viral moment, most news surrounding Bow Wow goes back to this. To be honest, I think I was asked to talk to Bow Wow, more because of his life of white lies as an Internet persona than his new music. But that’s not where I wanted to go. It’s too easy, to get lost in the Internet sauce. What’s harder: actually considering Bow Wow for what he is, one of the more interesting, and trailblazing figures in rap this millennium.

We, as a culture, haven’t really thought too critically about Bow Wow. To some people, Bow Wow’s career essentially ended in 2008, others maybe 2010, and a handful after Mr. 106&Park no longer was a staple on BET. But all three are incorrect, a fact that is both undercelebrated and underreported. Some people see him as a success, others a has-been. He has staunch defenders and others that wish he’d just go away. Compared to the average child star, however, he’s fared among the best -- so to pity him for getting a diminishing cultural cache would be narrow. But conversely, the timing of his early success was unfortunate -- pre-Youtube and social media. It’s easy to diminish or forget how gigantic of a star he was, because the Internet footprint of this fandom is small. There’s not hundreds of high-definition videos from Scream Tours of years past. It almost helps explain why, in his later years, he’s acted out repeatedly, using social media as this “all news is good news” platform, even if the headlines often include phrases like “dragged” and “trolled” and “owned.” To Bow Wow, it all seems to be quite purposeful.

“I never really listen to comments, I never really listen to bloggers, I never really listen to nobody,” Bow Wow says, over a blunt. “I always knew what I could do and just sit back and laugh at this shit.” This same spirit he applies to the Internet peanut gallery, he also applies to those, skeptical of his ability to make quality music again. “Niggas like, ‘can he do it again, can he come back with a hit?’ And it’s like ‘I’m a professional, this is what I fucking do for a living -- I’ve been doing this rap shit since I was five.”

--

I hated Bow Wow in 2005.

As a senior in high school in Atlanta, he was the first person my same age I’d ever been jealous of. But it wasn’t even the fame from music and film -- it was from his episode MTV: Cribs. But again, it wasn’t just that he had cars and a big ass house -- it made sense, he was famous and that what happened when you were famous.

At the end of the episode, he goes out to his pool and who is out there, chilling? Lou Williams, the best high school basketball player I’ve ever played against and seen with my own eyes, the same “Lou Will” who is in his 13th season in the NBA, the same Lou Will who, like Bow Wow, has never ever really gone away.

I was jealous at the time, because it had always been easy to act like Bow Wow was lame, because haters will ways to hate. But if Lou Will was at the house, I was forced to confront the fact that Bow Wow was cool. This only intensified with other pop culture moments, like Bow Wow on the “I Think They Like Me (Remix),” again confronted with the fact that “Swimming pool in the front and the backyard / I ain’t got to act hard, I’m under 21 with a black card” was very inspirational. Or the fact that Lottery Ticket is a hood classic. Or when Tyra Banks seemed to want to make out with Bow Wow and then did on 106&Park. Or, most notably, Bow Wow’s Top-10 of All Time Rap City Freestyle.

As I sit back, relax, get my hair cornrowed

Thinkin’ bout these little honies that I wanna know

Raven Symone, kinda grown, holla back

I wanna go one-on-one with Kyla Pratt

Picture that, what would her mom say

Kissed Solange and turned her into Beyonce

‘Cause I’m a mack

No trivia to that

Nivea cleaning my throwbacks at laundrymats.

And I’m A G, yeah.

Everytime I see ya

Squeezed 3LW up in my 2 seater.

At the end, he smiles and goes “it’s just the rhyme, I don’t mean no offense.”

Re-watching this before entering the studio with Bow Wow, I was reminded of two easy to forget things when one’s social media presence becomes their entire identity: he’s a pure entertainer and he’s dangerously charismatic.

On January 17, Bow Wow teased a snippet of a song on Twitter. The overwhelming reaction -- surprise, followed by oh shit, that’s was good. Another, more subtle thing of note: the beat was not Jermaine Dupri. Before Bow Wow starts rapping, you hear “ooh, is this a Pimpin beat.”

Pimpin, born Jamal Willingham, was famous as a rapper in the mid-2000s, 1/4th of Atlanta snap music pioneers Dem Franchize Boys. I hadn’t thought about him since I stopped wearing 2XXL white tees, but there he was, in the studio with Bow Wow, making music.

“Jermaine was working on my album at first,” Bow Wow said. “I needed that young, hard hitting 808 shit, mixed with a little bit of that old south shit. But it just wasn’t happening. Now, I didn’t know if I was outgrowing Jermaine’s production, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with me -- it just wasn’t clicking.”

Watching Bow Wow do interviews, as well as seeing him on his show Growing Up Hip Hop Atlanta, it can seem as if there’s some biblical father-son beef between he and Dupri. When the cameras are rolling, Bow Wow lights this fire, because he knows how to walk the line between telling the truth and being extremely extra. But hearing him tell it to me, this is more like a 30 year old man, finally going off to college and gaining his independence.

Leaving town for school doesn’t mean you necessarily hate your parents, but the space is appreciated and every now and then, you call home and ask for money (this would be Bow Wow, using Jermaine’s studio). But when they ask what the money’s for, you don’t always let them know exactly what for (this would be Bow Wow, making an album exclusively with Pimpin, and not letting Jermaine hear the songs).

“It’s like, I’ve learned from so many other greats. So I should be able to call my own shots and the OG homies should stand behind that and be confident in everything they’ve been teaching me. I’ve taken it all in, I’ve soaked it up and I’m going to use it. So that’s what it is -- I can always unlock a new sound with somebody.

It was Dupri who connected the rapper with the producer. “I heard some of Pimp’s shit and he came through. We both smoked up and vibed out and he ain’t left since.”

For the better part of the past year, Bow Wow and Pimpin have been making music, hanging out, getting high as hell and seeing how the other lives. “I been letting him see my lifestyle,” Bow Wow said, “because if your producer -- the motherfucker who’s making the creation -- understands the artist and his life, it’s only going to be dope.” Watching them make music in the studio, it’s extremely clear they’re comfortable with one another, experimenting with both sounds and lyrics. And to be honest, the music I heard sounded both current and relatable, young and dumb enough to work.

Pimpin is clearly there to help Bow Wow rise back to prominence, but the rapper also wants to make Pimpin pop. “He’s the only motherfucker that still got that Atlanta funk. It’s not even like it’s trap -- that shit just knocks. It’s just what he does. Every year it’s always a producer that goes on that run. And I just want to make him the hottest producer nigga going.”

One thing Bow Wow has at his disposal is that he’s racked up almost a decade of stories -- nearly his entire 20s -- to transform into lyrics. “On my first single, the first line is ‘woke up early, got no weed, I had to smoke me a roach.’ It’s like, ‘every nigga know about that, when you wake up and you wanna smoke and it’s like ‘ah fuck’ and it’s like, nobody wants to smoke the roach but it’s there, so.’”

Like I said, current and relatable, young and dumb.

“It’s a real story, so that’s why it comes out organic. I’ve lived life. But people don’t understand me or the method to my madness. And why I decided to go to TV for four years or stay out the rap game for a bit -- because I needed shit to talk about. When I was younger, I didn’t have nothing to fucking talk about. Like, I needed to live. I went through all types of shit. I went and had a daughter. I went through child support. I moved to New York, got some of the culture there. Moved to LA to do some CSI for two years. But after that ended, I had to figure out what was next, because something has to be next -- I’m not comfortable with just having money but not moving, fuck that.”

Greenlight 6 is that next move. To be frank, I hadn’t given much thought into what Bow Wow’s “process” would be. It was fascinating, however -- the degree to rocket science that it was not. What he’s talking about is not complex, his producer is right next to him, and they’re making these songs, together. “People go into the studio like ‘I’m gonna go make a hit.’ When you say that shit, it’s gonna be harder to get the hit. So, for me, whatever the beat tell me, I just go with it, lay it down and then if we got one, we got one and if it’s not it, we scratch it and move on to the next. But, I can’t lie, it’s effortless.”

This sounded like one of the many Bow Wow brags, but after watching him make a full song in a few hours, it was impressive. But it’s also a reminder that sometimes we don’t want to think of Bow Wow as smart, because he often appears to put his foot in his mouth, on accident. But Bow Wow is highly intelligent, which can be frustrating when someone seems to purposefully dumb it down. But perhaps he’d see it another way, the most intelligent thing that he could do is come out of rap hibernation and effortlessly figure out the formula to manufacture hits.

--

“It’s only four real motherfuckers in the game I fuck with for sure.”

There it was, the Bow Wow boast I was waiting for. I genuinely could not wait to find out who these four were.

“First, let me back up -- I don’t fuck with famous motherfuckers really. Because, to me they’re all fake. And what I mean by fake is not them as a person, not they shit they rap about. I mean just there’s so many broken promises, there’s so much shit that goes into the business. You got niggas scheming on your girl -- niggas that do a record with you. It’s just so much snake shit that you gotta watch out for.”

I still really wanted to know who these four people were, but he was riled up.

“I have businessships. That’s what I call them. I do right with a motherfucker because it just makes sense for us to do it. We can rock out, now. If something organic comes out of it, cool. And I don’t got problems with nobody but sometimes it’s like ‘damn, I can’t even fuck with you like that because I heard through the grapevine that you been talking shit behind my back -- why can we just talk it out like we’re supposed to.”

It was amazingly vague but also the point where he’s usually asked for specifics, which fuels the gossip mill. Unfortunately, I really didn’t care -- I was still really focused on these four real motherfuckers.

“I don’t fuck with these celebrity cats much. And that’s another thing that keeps me so grounded -- I come up with my day ones. But yeah, I got some home boys. Like Kyrie Irving -- that’s my boy. But I understand that we boys because we’re not in the same job field. We’re in two different worlds, he ball and I do this. And we support each other and it’s cool and it’s love. So people like that. Or just rich motherfuckers that ain’t famous. But let me say this though, quote me on this.”

Bow Wow was one hundred percent the type of self-promotional guy who would tell someone recording them to quote them, before a big statement. I loved talking to him -- it was like spending time with a verbally maniacal wide receiver or a sprinter -- because I didn’t know what the hell he was ever going to say.

“The four real motherfuckers in the game I fuck with -- my partners: Puff, that’s my homie, that’s my big bro. Snoop, of course, because he put me in the game. JD, everybody know that like a father to me -- and he still doesn’t get the respect he deserves, but you see the hardware here -- it’s everywhere. And Nelly. Those four, that’s it in the game.”

Bow Wow, age 30, just named a 48 year old, a 46 year old, a 45 year old and a 43 year old as the only people in rap that he fucks with. Initially confusing, it all quickly made perfect sense.

Yes, in his head, he certainly fashions himself to be a mogul, but under that he clearly sees it as a badge of honor to have found success before the Internet/social media generation of entertainers. And on top of that, wants you to know that the fact he’s still around only confirms his true ability. Those people he named, outside of age, have the proven be versatile in terms of the audience they present themselves to. People who can be hard when they want to but also appeal to mainstream America. This was clear as day, during a recent press run.

In one week he went on a Los Angeles radio show Hollywood Unlocked and talked about various women he had vague relationships with, including Kim Kardashian and also appeared on the wholesome Steve Harvey Show and got a flurry of “ooohs” and “awwws” from the middle-aged studio audience.

“Yo, I did Roll Bounce, that was a 70s movie, you know moms and grandmas--they all took their kids and grandchildren to see that shit. I try to tap everybody. If I go into Mr. Chows I’m not gonna wear no motherfucking jersey. When I’m in the bank, I don’t talk like how I talk on the regular. When I go to the airport, I straighten up. If I go on Steve Harvey, I know he gonna be suited up. I know his audience -- those are my people too -- so I’m on my shit, I’m on my A game, I’m not high. And I’m ready to go in there and do what I gotta do. You adapt to your surroundings. I’m a scenery type motherfucker.”

I’m a scenery type motherfucker.

Me and Bow Wow were 20 days apart, but when he says things like that, with a straight face, I feel like we’re from two different poles of the goddamn Earth.

I still can’t figure Bow Wow out. So maybe he’s doing it right? What I’m convinced of, whether or not he’s doing it right -- it’s all purposeful, the inability to put him in a box. And between the rumors, the lies, the appearances, the brash confidence, the adaptability, and the ability to seemingly talk himself out of any situation -- it makes it very hard to figure out who Bow Wow actually is.

In that same interview with Hollywood Unlocked, in his story about Kim Kardashian, he refers to Paris Hilton on multiple occasions as “P.” I’d never even considered a world in which peak Bow Wow hung out with peak Paris, so much to have a nickname for her. But maybe he did. But also, maybe, he didn’t. The fact that we don’t really know what Bow Wow has seen and done is the utmost allure of Bow Wow, cultural figure. We saw him as a child star, living a life abnormal for a teenager. We also saw him exist in B-list purgatory, it unclear what he was doing or where he was going, but never remotely disappearing. We don’t know how much he’s seen, or what he’s done, which has perfectly positioned himself in all walks of his life to be storyteller of tales, tall or true. Will it ever be clear which is which, if he’s smart -- no.